


as he reads

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Fluff, Get together fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9708470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: It doesn’t happen in an instant—no, it’s more like that one book, the one Betty was obsessed with for a couple months. How does it go?I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.Yeah, that’s it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for the anon who prompted "archie discovering he likes jughead"
> 
> the lyrics for archie's song are actually some lines from an old poem of mine, haha
> 
> hope you all enjoy!!

 

Plain and simple, Archie Andrews realizes he’s in love with his best friend in the same moment that said best friend is throwing some very colorful language at the television screen. They’re both holding game controllers, and Archie’s still waiting to respawn, and Jughead is cursing out the opposing team who’s kicking their asses with ease. Archie can’t say what it is about the moment, why it’s _now_ of all times that he realizes how he feels for Jughead, but the heart wants what the heart wants.

He freaks out and practically throws the controller away from him; the rattle of the plastic is what finally draws Jughead’s attention. He’s curious and concerned and still steaming-mad in a way that’s _adorable_.

“Dude, what’s up with you?” Jughead carefully sets down his own controller and turns to face Archie.

Archie, who stammers out something and needing to bail, call it an early night. He catches the flicker of hurt in Jughead’s eyes but can’t take it back now. He rushes to apologize, swears that they can spend the whole weekend together uninterrupted. It alleviates some of the soft grief in Jughead’s expression, but not all. Archie stammers some more before realizing there’s nothing else he can say. He gathers up his stuff quietly, and doesn’t comment when Jughead doesn’t even walk him to the door.

He slips in through the kitchen and winces when Vegas comes barreling toward him. His dad isn’t far behind, and looks concerned.

“Something happen?”

Archie shakes his head and tries to find the words but realizes he can’t even _begin_ to make sense of his thoughts right now. In the end, he replies, “maybe.”

His dad looks alarmed so Archie hurries to clarify.

“Nothing bad. Uh, at least, I don’t think so.” He scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Just had a realization and I’m still trying to figure out… how I feel.”

Immediately his dad’s posture softens, as does his gaze. “Yeah?” He walks forward to clap a hand onto his son’s shoulder. “I’m here if you need to talk, you know that.”

Archie nods. “Thanks, dad.” He jerks his head toward the stairs. “I’m gonna turn in early.”

His dad nods, still looking a touch concerned, but allows Archie to meander upstairs without a fight.

 

That night, as he lays in bed, Archie realizes he’s _always_ been a little bit in love with Jughead. It’s crept on him over the years, tender and slow-moving, but it’s always been there. He still doesn’t know why it’s peaked now, just when they’ve finally managed to get their friendship to a good spot again. He doesn’t get it, but he knows there’s no turning back. He can’t turn off his feelings and he definitely can’t pretend this realization never happened.

He sits up in a flurry and makes a dive for his guitar where it sits in the corner of the room. He’s mostly naked, save for his boxer-briefs, but he doesn’t care as he sits back down. He cradles his guitar in his grasp and fumbles for a pencil and a fresh notebook page. Heart pounding, he starts to write, and write, and write. Every so often he stops to strum, hums the tone under his breath and taps out a rhythm with his foot.

He works on it well into the morning, and even by then it’s far from perfect. But it’s a damn good start, he thinks.

 

 

He invites Jughead over for the weekend, intending to keep his promise of a good old boys’ weekend with no interruptions. He spends all of Thursday night fretting, and all day at school on Friday fretting even more. He’s so visibly frazzled, everyone—including Jughead—comments on it. He doesn’t tell anyone the truth, though, not even Betty when she pulls him aside and grills him for information.

When Archie opens the front door at precisely six o’clock, Jughead doesn’t even bother with a greeting.

“So, what’s going on with you?” He asks; he takes confident, long strides into Archie’s house. He walks right past Archie, even, and makes a beeline for the kitchen. He tosses his backpack onto the dining table and leaves his overnight bag in a chair. He starts to raid the fridge, his voice muffled as he keeps talking. “You’ve been weird since Tuesday, and it’s tiresome, honestly.”

When Jughead stands straight again, he’s got half the ingredients needed to make waffles. It pulls a laugh from Archie, and his heart thuds with fondness at the familiar scene.

“Earth to Archibald,” Jughead sing-songs as he moves to the counter. He continues to rummage through the Andrews’ kitchen until he’s got everything he needs. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Archie laughs again. “My dad said the same thing when I got home the other night.”

“So he’s aware of your weirdness? Good.”

Archie sidles up beside Jughead and they fall into the age-old rhythm of measuring out ingredients. They both stay quiet while the mix all the dry ingredients together, then add in the wet ingredients. While Jughead separates out the batter to make several different kinds—chocolate chip, blueberry, peanut butter, and regular—Archie pulls out the waffle maker from a lower cabinet.

Only after the first batch is sizzling away does Jughead talk again.

“Care to share?”

Archie thinks to his bedroom, where his guitar and freshly polished lyrics sit waiting. “Later? It’s—I have a plan. A very particular plan.”

Jughead raises an eyebrow at him. “Okay,” he replies slowly. “You’re so weird.” He shakes his head but smiles.

 

It’s a struggle to get a waffle-stuffed Jughead up the stairs, but Archie manages. He practically has to scoop his friend up and carry him but it’s worth it. Jughead makes a fuss even as he wraps his arms around Archie’s neck for support without hesitation.

“We’re not sleeping in your bed, right?” Jughead asks. “One, it’s not even like eight o’clock yet. Two, your bed is _way_ too small for us both now.”

Archie snorts and shakes his head. “No, we’re not.” His cheeks warm at the thought of sleeping so close to Jughead, and wonders if he’ll be able to get his friend to reconsider. “I just—I have something to show you.” He stops at the threshold to his room and jostles Jughead slightly. “C’mon, sit on the bed.”

Jughead nods and moves sluggishly. He’s full and dopey from gorging himself on waffles, and he doesn’t so much sit as he does collapse onto the bed.

“You have to pay attention, okay?”

Jughead nods and waves for Archie to continue. He gets comfortable, hat nearly slipping off his head, while Archie settles into the chair at his desk. He waits until Jughead has rolled over to face him before starting to strum.

“What?” Jughead sits up, curious.

Archie hushes him and tries to find the rhythm he’d perfected the night before. It takes him a few tries, a few moments to retune his strings, to adjust and get comfortable so his foot doesn’t cramp as he taps to the beat. He clears his throat awkwardly and plays the primary hook over and over a few times until he feels ready.

Voice shaking and eyes focused on his hands playing, rather than Jughead watching, Archie starts to sing.

_“I wanna paint the walls with you, using only our fingertips.”_ He closes his eyes as a blush scorches his cheeks. The next line wavers even more but he carries on. _“Running down hallways, our home a canvas in our wake.”_

Archie opens his eyes and sees that Jughead has sat up and is watching intently. His face gives nothing away, no emotion, but he is clenching the bedsheets so hard his knuckles are white. Archie gulps and starts the next line a beat late.

_“I want to cup your face and leave my fingerprints on your cheeks. I want to gasp for air, swallowing your every exhale.”_ Archie finally looks up to really watch Jughead, and isn’t surprised to see his best friend blushing too. Archie grins, sheepish, and Jughead opens his mouth like he wants to speak. Archie shakes his head minutely, and Jughead nods, keeping quiet.

_“I want to pull you close, stain your shirt, your skin,”_ Archie draws out the notes as his playing slows. _“Your shirt, your skin, with my love.”_ He hums along with the last few twangs of the guitar until it feels right to stop. After, the room is painfully quiet.

Archie shifts awkwardly. He sets his guitar aside and then drums his fingers on his knees uneasily. “It’s not perfect,” he admits. “Uh, but, yeah.”

Jughead swallows nervously, a gulp that seems to echo in the room. “So…” He isn’t looking at Archie. He’s staring at a far corner of Archie’s room, instead. “That’s—it was pretty.”

“Yeah?”

Jughead nods. “Is it—is it for someone?”

Archie holds back a nervous cackle of laughter. He stands slowly and approaches Jughead like a skittish animal. When his best friend doesn’t flinch, makes no attempt to flee, Archie sits beside him on the bed.

“S’for you.”

Jughead ‘ah’s quietly. “And this… is why you’ve been so weird lately?”

“Mhmm. It kind of hit me out of nowhere.” Archie shrugs. “I’m not expecting you to feel the same way, Jug, I just. I had to tell you. I knew I couldn’t un-realize how I felt, and I probably would’ve gone crazy trying to ignore it.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

Jughead says it so suddenly, Archie almost doesn’t register the words. He looks over at Jughead to see a small and nervous smile on his lips. His eyes are a blend of mischief and anxiety.

“What? Really?”

“Really,” Jughead agrees. He looks down at the bed, where their hands are only a few centimeters apart. He turns his own hand, palm up in offering.

Archie wastes no time linking their fingers. “Really?” He asks again.

“Oh my god, _yes_ ,” Jughead snaps back with zero heat in his tone. His lips are curling at the corners and his cheeks are pinker than Archie has ever seen. “You think you’re the only one who can harbor a crush for ages?”

Archie raises an eyebrow. “Ages, huh?” He opens his mouth to tease his best friend—his _boyfriend_ , but doesn’t get the chance.

Jughead leans in and kisses him softly, stealing the words right from his lips. Archie promptly forgets all about teasing him… for now, anyway.


End file.
